The Name Of The Game
by imaginationfluffball
Summary: Waking up in the back of the Impala, with no knowledge of monsters, magic or what a 'Winchester' is, turns out to be much less fun than it sounds. Learning fast, sitting tight and getting frustrated make up the strange game that the brothers and this new stranger have to play. Sam, Dean, Castiel, OC *complete*
1. Chapter I

I gasped and my eyes flew open.

Shiny Black leather-no, vinyl. The smell of French fries, car polish and...feet?

I was laying face down, rather uncomfortably, in what felt like the back seat of an old car. We (someone had to be driving this thing) seemed to be flying down a smooth highway.

Within a heartbeat my adrenaline spiked.

I was sitting upright before I could draw my second breath.

Then, I screamed.

The driver (a man with short bristly hair) almost swerved off the road in surprise (while stringing together a row of profanity that was respectable, in a terribly twisted way). Another man who was sitting in the passengers seat, (longer shaggy hair) grabbed the door handle and yelled, in a baritone voice, "Dean!"

Since I was sans-seatbelt and scared out of my mind, I only managed to raise one hand before slamming into the left door, hitting my temple on the window ledge and blacking out.


	2. Chapter II

The next time I woke up, I was lying on my back on what felt like a hard mattress. Something cold was cutting into each of my wrists, keeping them separated over my head so I was sprawled out - Jesus style.

I was frozen, paralyzed by fear. Trying to be inconspicuous, I opened my eyes. My head gave a throb that should have echoed into the grand canyon.

I grimaced and blinked rapidly, then tried to gauge my surroundings through the pain.

"It's okay, don't worry, we aren't going to hurt you." The shaggy haired guy was sitting in a chair, forearms on knees, eyebrows jammed into each other. He had surprisingly kind eyes, for a guy who seemed to be holding me, a young woman, captive.

"Well, if you don't hurt us," came a deep voice, (the voice who cursed everything on hells holy acre in the car) from what seemed to be a...kitchen...on my right. He had a startlingly handsome face, but tight, speculative eyes. He peered down at me without remorse.

Breathing rapidly I tried to deduce what the hell was going on. First off, I seemed to be in some cheap motel room with equally cheap paintings on the walls (abstract flower prints), two queen beds and an old TV. Dull daylight struggled to get through heavy, floral curtains, causing the illumination of dust particles in the few beams of light. My second thought was that only my hands were cuffed to the head board, which left my legs free. Third: these men, who were complete strangers, had handcuffs (among probable other things) to spare. And finally, a large square bandaid had been placed on my upper arm; I was just able to tell from how much it was stinging that it was hiding a cut from a blade.

What the hell?

I started to sweat.

"Please, I'm sorry, just let me go." My voice was shaking and cracked twice. I pressed myself back into the dark purple spread, wishing I could disappear into the mattress.

Short hair's intense eyes bore down into me. "Ha. You're the one who just magically poofed into our back seat while I was driving 90 down the I-10. How about you get to talking and then we think about it."

Then he threw water, which came out of a small flask, in my face.

I spluttered incoherently.

"Sorry, had to be sure."

I had had enough. Suddenly I was sobbing. Confused, terrified and held prisoner by two large, strange men, I just wanted to rip myself free and run away.

"Sam, she's-" noticing me suddenly dissolving into tears the shorter man gestured at me desperately. The man in the chair quickly jumped up and pulled something out of his pocket, "here, here, shhh don't worry. I'm sorry we had to do this we just had to be sure." His surprisingly long body reached over me to unlock my wrists and I nimbly rolled off the bed and stood up, pressing myself back into the corner as quickly as possibly, wiping the water, tears and sweat off my face.

I grabbed my forehead with a gasp of pain. Suddenly being vertical was not agreeing with my head. Definitely a concussion then.

The two guys observed me from where they stood, across the room, with confused faces.

"Look, sweetheart, we just have a few questions for you and we wanted to make sure you weren't...well anything nasty." Short hair was turning up the charm but shaggy was hovering beside him with a pensive gaze. They seemed to be trying to be a little less dominating, to calm me down. Typically guys, afraid of woman's tears above all else.

The more I looked at the guys, through squinty eyes and a throbbing forehead, the more puzzled I got. They appeared to have no weapons (well unless you counted the handcuffs), and the looks on their faces...they were about as confused as I was. Also, I felt as if it was safe to assume short hair was just perpetually angry.

I slowly worked my jaw open.

Looking at the ground, I tried for honestly. "One-second I was walking home from school, the next I'm in some old car with no recollection of getting there. Please, if you want money or what ever, it's yours. Just please; let me go."

The two guys looked at each other and I stole a glimpse up at them. Quite honestly they weren't much older than myself, mid twenties maybe? That put them within 5 years of my own age.

Just two guys, one a couple inches shorter, with short hair and that charm-you-all-the-way-to-bed smirk. The other, shaggy one, seemed to be slightly younger but had old, intelligent eyes and impressively broad football shoulders. Something about the guys made you feel like you wouldn't want to meet them in a dark alley, though.

I looked at the door, it was behind the boys, and locked.

I couldn't feel my phone in my pockets.

My head gave a nasty spin and I closed my eyes from the pain.

Quietly they hissed at each other, their backs to me. Though, as I was a trapped animal, my senses amped up and I caught most of their hoarse whispers.

"She hasn't reacted to anything. Silver, iron, holy water; I think she's just a human. Why the hell would she randomly appear, she doesn't know us, we don't know her."

"The whole 'suddenly in the backseat of the impala thing'-reeks of angel don't you think?"

"We could try Cas?"

"We might have to. I'll call Bobby first though."

"Already did while you were cuffing her. He thought angel too."

"Oh great, more freakin' angels."

Hesitantly they turned around and the tall one stepped toward me. I breathed in involuntarily.

"Hey listen, it's okay." He held his hands up in surrender, "We're not quite sure what's going on here but, well, my name's Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean." Short hair gave me a tight smile but Sam continued looking at me with open eyes, "Look we didn't mean to scare you," Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something about me almost hurting his baby, though I didn't see a child anywhere, "but we needed to be sure. So you say you have no recollection of getting into our car."

I nodded, agreeing with his statement. My head was reeling-did I just hear them whisper about Angels? Maybe they were crazies, escaped from an institution-or some of those weirdo "the end is coming/zombies are real" gamers. Something about them though, in their plaid shirts and normal blue jeans, just seemed so...mundane.

Was this a cult? My heart rate increased.

I nodded. Sam and Dean exchanged another glance. Quickly I picked up that they were close, like really crazy close, not many people can have conversations in glances.

"Where am I?" I forced out, pressing back into the wall a little more.

"California," Dean, his eyes watched my face closely for a reaction, which he got-full blast.

"California? What the hell!"

"Where were you before you were...here?" Sam's eyes were trying to connect the dots.

"Canada! Where I live! What the hell... What happened to me?"

"Well, we aren't sure, but we think Angels."

"Dean!"

"What are we just gonna not tell her? I mean really Sam, I think she needs to know the truth and we might as well get this over with, fast."

Thump!

I had slid down the wall and landed hard on my butt. My head gave a throb that made my ears ring and my vision dissipate.

I wanted to stand and fight, I wanted to run and hide, I want to…I wanted to...

"Hey, hey, here - come, sit." Big hands were on me. Sam grabbed my upper arms and half carried me, half dragged my suddenly limp form, up onto the previously shackled bed.

I could distantly hear Dean's voice, telling Sam he was calling Cas whether the son of a bitch was busy or not.

Then my head hit the thin pillow, and I was out once again.

**Authors Note:**

**Hello to anyone who made it through the first two chapters! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Everyone's views mean the world to me!**

**Also, I hope everyone has something to say; good, bad or ugly!**

**Let me know what you thought about how our mystery protagonist met the Winchesters, and if you agreed or disagreed with her reaction. Any guesses where the story is heading?**

****This is my first published fan fiction****

**xx Imaginationfluffball**


	3. Chapter III

For the second time I woke up on my back, in a strange motel room, on a hard mattress.

A pair of blue eyes were staring down at me, inches away from my face, with a clinical, probing expression.

I screamed.

"Cas, back off! Don't worry sweetheart, he's harmless."

I scrambled back, trying to ignore my throbbing head as best I could.

Dean quickly pulled this 'Cas' man out of my personal bubble.

"I am an angel of the Lord, I am not harmless." Dean shot a slightly worried look at the back of Cas's head, (which I'm sure I wasn't supposed to see) before giving me a tight reassuring smile.

With my back against the head board I tried to steady my breathing. I was so done with this straight up weirdness.

I wanted answers, now.

"What the hell are you doing? Who are you? What's happening? Also would it kill anyone to get me some tylenol, because I am 90% sure I have a concussion, because of _someones_ driving." I scowled at Dean.

Breaking point was closing in on me, I could feel it.

It surprised me a little when Sam came around the corner and handed me a bottle of water, and a bottle of tylenol.

"Thanks." I slipped out in surprise. He gave me a half hearted smile. He really was attractive, the sunlight steaming threw the cheap curtains tinted his chocolate hair gold.

"Abigail Warlinger, 19, student, resides in Canada. Human. Nothing extraordinary, no reason why someone would transfer her here." This strange man, Cas, quickly rattled off in an odd, deep voice, his old eyes slightly...curious.

He was right, about everything.

I took a couple pills to have an excuse to look down. Was I on some kind of trip? Dreaming? My head felt like a balloon about to pop.

"Abigail?" Sam had pulled up a chair right next to my bed, his intelligent face and large frame surprisingly less intimidating now that I seemed to be safe from immediate danger, though not immediate weirdness, apparently.

I looked up into his clear (puppy-dog) eyes.

"Me and my brother are hunters. We track down the supernatural and kill it, with a few exceptions." His eyes flicked over to Cas. "We're trying to figure out why you're here, but you should know we really do truly mean no harm." His lips pressed up into that half-hearted smile, but his eyes weren't hiding anything. There was fear there, a loop hole behind the words. _What ever is happening_, his eyes seemed to say, _could go south_.

I attempted a smile as well, "Well it looks like I'm a little bit stuck here for the moment, so thanks for the protection, I suppose."

I glanced over at Dean, his eyes seemed to be slightly less guarded in that moment. It was as if Sam was the mouth-piece for the both of them, and I could feel Dean's agreement and dictation in Sam's words. Even this strange, angel man seemed to be on the brothers side; you could see his trust in them clearly.

I looked bad at Sam, "Although you sound crazy, just so you know."

"Crazy is subjective," Sam said, his cheek then pulling up into a crooked grin.

The men then began to talk together in quiet, rapid fire conversation.

Some where deep down, I seemed to know that there wasn't going to be a logical, scientific answer as to how I had gotten to California. Teleportation wasn't real, not in the pure human world. Call it a sixth sense, I don't know, but my body seemed to know that something was not right here. And it was scarring the shit out of me. The worst thought came as Sam, Dean and Cas's voices started to raise just enough so I could hear them: _maybe these guys weren't so crazy, after all_.

"So Cas, angels or not?"

"This is not the work of one of my brothers, I see no trace of angelic magic, or the imprint of her soul touching one of our Grace's. We tend to leave marks if we were to interfere so directly."

"Okay well that narrows it down to everything except angels."

Sam sighed, "Thanks anyway, Cas."

He gave a small nod to Sam before... Vanishing?

With a funny swishing sound, Cas was just...gone. My jaw quite literally fell out of my mouth.

When Dean and Sam finally stopped having one of their eye-conversations, they seemed to find my reaction quite amusing. Well, Dean did anyway. Sam just gave me another worried, puppy dog look.

With a casual smirk Dean threw out a: "So, anyone feel like a bacon cheese burger?"

**Authors Note:**

**Soooooooo what did y'all think? Next chapter starts out fluffy, before our story really starts ;)**

**Comment are lovely and make the world go round :)**

**xx Imaginationfluffball**


	4. Chapter IV

So there I was. One country over with two attractive guys (if you took away the shocking amount of plaid), eating cheeseburgers in a little diner with red booths, and waitresses in "retro" dresses, adorned with frilly aprons.

I didn't know what was happening, why it was happening, if I was going to be okay, or how this had even began, but still, I sat down and ordered a cheeseburger.

The brothers didn't think I should call my family, but I assured them I didn't really have any. After my mom dying when I was twelve, I mostly bounced through foster care homes. I had won a scholarship and was going to college, but none of my friends would think it was too strange if I was gone for a weekend.

They were sympathetic in a way only people who have lost people are, but also relieved, which I tried not to let get to me.

With no answers, but a lot of questions, I decided to stay with these strangers for just little while, or at least until I could find a way home.

"Just tell me if I can get anything else for you," the waitress batted her eyelashes at Dean vapidly, before drifting away.

Suddenly starving I dove in, screwing all my very pressing issues. The burger was delicious.

About half way through I glanced up at the guys facing me; Sam seemed far away, contemplating the current issue hopefully, and Dean, well, he seemed to be enjoying his burger with vicious delight. I giggled, unable to control myself. My emotions were every where; up and down and backwards (also the boys had gave me an alarming amount of medicine for my concussion, before we had left) and quite honestly Dean eating that burger suddenly became the funniest thing in the world.

Dean looked up surprised, as if he had forgotten he was still in public, which he may well have, which only made me laugh harder. Sam slowly surfaced, taking in me loosing my mind. Then he noticed Dean looking back at me with this incredulous expression, and about half a burger stuffed in his mouth.

Sam started to chuckle as well, which only made the whole situation funnier. Dean started to defend himself through a mouthful of meat, and then me and Sam were loosing it. Sam's face relaxed when he laughed and suddenly he was strikingly handsome. He seemed to open up a little more with each booming laugh.

Suddenly he just looked ... _right_.

I looked away from Sam and shook my head slightly, feeling dazed. _What the hell?_ I was never taking medication from strangers again.

We continued laughing until Dean threatened to do awful things to us, even if I was a chick, so me and Sam had to stifle our laughter into our burgers. We caught glances a few times and I'll be damned if he didn't look at me for a little too long, a couple times.

I may not have trusted these guys 100%, but I understood right then, that they didn't mean me any harm.

Later, after we had eaten and they had payed, which was kind, and also necessary, (considering all I had were the clothes I had been zapped here with) we slunk back to the motel. Their car was actually pretty sweet, once you were aware why, and how, you had gotten into it.

"You know I was thinking, and the only other thing that has every zapped us around-apart from an angel, was a trickster." Sam said to Dean with a meaningful look.

I listened more carefully.

"True. So what now? We wait and jump the next person who eats a chocolate bar?"

Sam's eyebrows pushed together like two opposing forces.

While we drove back, listening to old rock that I had to force myself not to sing along to for dignities sake, I got a little time to think.

Trickster: sounded like a magician. I doubted I was that lucky.

As soon as we pulled up Dean left, needed a drink apparently, and since I was technically a minor in this god for saken country, Sam offered to stay at the motel with me.

"What's a trickster?" I asked from what I had claimed as my bed, half-hazardly flicking through channels an hour later.

Sam was sat at the small table, squinting at his lap top, his large frame hunched over it comically. "A creature that messes with you for his own enjoyment, basically."

"And so he zapped me here just for shits and gigs?"

Sam smirked slightly at my interesting use of slang, "as far as we can tell...yeah."

He shot me a sympathetic look.

It had been hours since I appeared in their car (from what I could piece together) and my nerves had calmed - slightly. I wished I knew how I had got here. I went over it again and again, with the brothers and without, but all I could remember was walking through my familiar neighbourhood then boom - California. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason, no logical or science behind it.

I looked over at Sam again.

He had the cutest nose. I don't know why I noticed, or why it suddenly became a very big deal, but it just was. Blame it on the medicine, or stress, or the adrenaline still cooling in my veins - whatever - he just had a cute nose.

Sam's eyebrows knitted together pensively, probably because of what ever he was trying to sift through online, and this curious little paradox developed. He was broad and loose, and small and tight all at the same time.

The corner of my mouth tilted up.

I must have fallen asleep after a few hours of sporadic conversation with Sam, and quietly flicking through channels. I awoke to voices muttering hushed, intense conversation.

The clock read 1:24 am and some terrible old sitcom was playing quietly: _The Days of Our Lives_?

My mouth tasted sandy and I had a sudden pang for home, for my dorm, for a tooth brush. During the last few hours me and Sam discussed me calling my friends a little, but the guys thought it would only cause problems and they (for some reason they wouldn't elaborate on) didn't want to get involved with the police.

"So what should we do? She has to go home eventually, I don't think we can just keep her until something else weird happens. I mean we don't even know for sure what we're playing with." Sam was leaning on the kitchen counter while Dean sat in a chair at the table, both had beers in their hands.

These two people, strangers really, discussed my situation with a tone of both intense longing for understanding, and clinical disinterest, as if I was just another in the long string of clients, and from what little Sam had told me while we were alone, I was. I pressed my eyes together and tried to calm myself down from the sudden panic that threatened to overwhelm me.

_Did they really care about me, or was a simply their new burden?_

I steadied myself and sat up. I was still in the clothes I had appeared in: a black t-shirt and jeans. I prayed my hair was half decent. A reocurring thought crashed into me again: _how long was I going to be stuck here?_

Dean and Sam looked over and I gave a half hearted smile, all of us a little awkward with the current living situation.

"Beer?" Dean asked. He had those Ken barbie looks, and knew it, but didn't do anything to dress it up. If I had been one of those girls who jumped guys with dangerous eyes and a rebel-without-a-cause personality, I would have been toast. I wasn't about to lucky out completely though. Unfortunately I had a serious thing for shoulders and cute noses...

"Sure."

Dean's hands were scared and too old for his body, like the old leather coat he kept on. The beer wasn't half bad.

"I'm going to go ask for another room, and a toothbrush." Sam placed down his beer and made for the door.

"Thanks."

He gave me a little smile that effected me more than it would have just a few hours ago.

Must be the exhaustion.

The night was still. The golden California sun that shone in during the afternoon, had been replaced by the vague glow of parking lot lights. Dean took a sip from his beer. A truck rambled by, out on the near high way. Sam opened our door opened with an easy whoosh when suddenly-

SLAP!

Sam tried to take a step out into the cool night air, and had bounced back as if he had walked into an invisible glass door.

"What the hell!" Sam staggered back violently before creeping back up and pushing on the...solid air?

"Son of a bitch." Dean strode forward towards the open door with both hands outstretched. Bracing himself as if to feel a boundary of sorts, his face set into a dark mask.

Step, step, set, step, step-

Dean walked right through the open door, and out into the parking lot.

Sam reached out again and pushed against the wall of containment. It was quite obviously still there for him.

Dean and Sam's eyes were both glowing red with murder. It was as if the door frame was a mirror, a brother's anger perfectly reflected in the other's face.

Sam spun around, "Abigail, come here for a second."

I stood up, placed my beer on the night stand and went to stand beside Sam. There was a lead ball in my stomach and my palms were slippery with fear.

I tried to stick my arm out the door and felt a hard, cool wall. It was indescribable, somewhere between cool plexiglass and wet cement.

"Uhhhh..." I locked gazes with Sam; anger, curiosity, and worry clouded his stormy eyes.

I stood at 6 feet, which made me awkward and lanky growing up, but with Sam, I didn't notice my height. I searched his eyes, his pushed back into mine, both of us searching for an answer. Why us?

From an outside perspective we must have looked like two scruffy giants with matching looks of frustrated constipation. Dean noticed.

"Well, when you two stop staring into each others eyes, we have to figure out what wants to keep two strangers in a motel room together. Now my money is definitely on trickster."

Me and Sam broke eye contact. It seemed were doomed to a night of frustration. As I walked away I could feel Sam's eyes on my back, trying to figure me out.

Trapped, cornered, and confused I thought sparingly that frustration, might be the name of this whole game.

**Author's Note:**

**Me again, hope you liked this chapter, sorry it moved a little slow. As you can probably tell time is becoming an large factor- and issue- for our boys, and girl :)**

**Curious to know what you guys think, and who you think is behind it!**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE VIEWS AND COMMENTS :)**

**xx Imaginationfluffball**


	5. Chapter V

Neither me nor Sam slept much. Maybe dozing off for a handful of minutes, when the night started to shift into the early morning.

I knew I shouldn't, but I trusted Sam - I trusted him far too much. If I was being honest, something deep inside me felt much too comfortable around him, more so than Dean even.

I tried my hardest to push it off as sleep deprivation.

This situation was pulling my nerves tight like piano wire.

To will away the time we talked a bit. He was closed off and didn't share much, but he answered my questions. The who, what, where, when of monster hunting. I figured if I was trapped here, I might as well know as much as possible about the more _mysterious_ side of life, a side I was having trouble coming to grips with. At around 6am, both of us over tired but wired, he taught me how to throw a knife. Twice he stood behind me, placing his large hand on top of mine, and fixed my positioning. Each time we were careful not to touch our bodies together, leaving the tension in the air to shriek, like radio static on full blast. I got the hang of throwing knives quickly, which was surprising, but humorous, and lead to competitions that lasted a full hour. Me narrowly beating Sam, every time. Turns out I had a knack for knives.

Dean showed up a couple hours later with coffee, but no answers. He had spent the night searching for anything "odd", any tells or signs that hinted at the supernatural, but he hadn't found much. Apparently one of the regulars at the motel consistently grabbed sweets from the vending machine by the front desk, and was known to be a bit unusual, so Dean tracked him down. Unfortunately he ended up being a very normal, very obese, citizen of California.

Sam spent his night plucking away at his computer, doing research, and every so often calling a man named Bobby. He only had one lead by the time the sun rose, and it came from one of the phone calls.

"Bobby said that Tricksters have to have somewhat regular contact with their victims, that they have to be with a few feet of them every so often to keep the magic potent," Sam told Dean after we had grabbed our coffees.

"Okay, so the bastard has to be around you two," Dean gestured vaguely towards me and Sam, "every 24 hours lets say. Guess we sit and wait till someone knocks on the door." He kicked his feet up onto the kitchen table, settling in.

Sam frowned unhappily, he was a bit like a grumpy old man trapped in a young, very fit, persons body. His ruffled expression made me hide a smile, it reminded me of beating him at the late night knife competitions.

"Dean, who is going to come knocking on our motel door, we never even ask to have our rooms cleaned."

Dean's eyes grew sharp, "Well I'll watch out side the room as much as possible, but Sammy, if there's anything you think we should be doing right now, well, I'm all ears. That's why I'm suggesting we sit back for a bit, wait for the fish to bite." He raised his eyebrows and tilted back in his chair.

Sam pursed his lips, but said nothing.

Dean cracked open an old leather bound book that looked rather worn and torn. I was getting a bit stir crazy. Bored and wanting to resolve what ever tension the boys had just kicked up between themselves, I decided to try to start up a conversation with Dean.

"What's in the book," I asked, aiming for nonchalance. After watching Sam leaf through it occasionally through the night, with no explanation as to what it was, I was more than a little curious. It seemed to be adorned with pictures and symbols, and bits of text from various types of literature.

"Only the best things. Tales about death, and how to kill monsters." He looked up at me with a devilish glint.

"Oh." I peeped out.

"It's a journal, It was our Dads, actually." Sam: ever the pacifist.

"So it's a family affair then, being the real live ghost-busters," I said with a small smile at Sam.

"Yeah I suppose so," Sam smiled his crocked smile, with a dimple poking out very quickly.

Sam's hazel eyes, so open when he was smiling, let me take a normal breath. There was something about him, this strange guy, that calmed me.

Now I'd like to say this was all me exaggerating, but I swear his features shifted just slightly when we met eyes, and I could tell he felt something too.

We both looked away, colour spreading high on our cheek bones. Dean didn't notice.

Twenty minutes later, Sam spoke; his voice picketed with interest, "Hey guys check this out: in some really old latin lore, it says there is a symbol, or maybe an amulet, that will burn hot when a trickster, or 'foul playing spirit' is near."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "I'm calling Bobby."

"Cas might be a better option, he could track one down easier, if there it is an amulet."

I stood up and carefully sat down beside Sam on his bed, leaving a considerable amount of distance between us.

He glanced up at me, confused.

"Mind if I took a look, I took a couple Latin classes last year at college. Somehow got honours, too." I smiled nervously.

His eyebrows shot up and he held out his laptop willingly.

After a few minutes and a quick google search to refresh myself on a certain type of verb, I quickly explained that it was indeed an amulet, and why. Sam had a scooted slightly closer as the minutes passed, unconsciously, and once I was finished talking we were almost cheek to cheek. He smelled slightly like shampoo, the inside of their car, and musk; he smelt warm. It was more than slightly distracting.

"Also it is typically worn on a tight chain around the neck, like a choker almost." I gestured unconsciously at my throat, trying to explain the small detail I had found a few paragraphs in. I flicked my eyes to Sam's, (our opposite thighs were now touching) to see his eyes following my hand that was gesturing at my throat, and then drifting lower...

I stared at him with an eyebrow raised. Half a second later he met my gaze and hastily looked away, blushing.

Dean snickered.

"That's about it." I shrugged and handed Sam back his laptop.

"Awesome. I'm calling Cas." Dean then leaned forward and closed his eyes shut, like he was about to pray.

I raised my eyebrows and looked at Sam but he just smirked. Those hazel eyes were already seared into my memory, after only a couple days.

"Castiel, if you are out there, I pray for you to get your feathery ass over here. We are having a bit of a situation, and need you, man. Amen."

Before he was finished a man had appeared out of thin air behind him, with only a slight rustling noise. It was the strange man with the blue eyes from yesterday, what had he called himself? An 'angel of the lord'? I stiffened.

"Dean." Dean jumped just slightly, spinning around the see the strange man peering over his shoulder.

"Dammit Cas, could you not do that. Personal space man."

"Oh… yes… my apologies, Dean."

"Cas we need you to help us find an amulet..." Sam explained our whole strange story to Cas, in detail. He had off-putting ageless eyes, an intense, deep voice - but was dressed like an accountant. It may have been a strange assortment of characterization, but I soon found myself relaxing in his presence. He seemed graciously powerful yet… ordinary.

After Sam finished retelling the story of our odd last couple of days, and Castiel's peaceful features had morphed into a look of deep confusion, he announced he would go "scour the land for any such items and return". Then he simply vanished, which was still unnerving, even the second time around.

Dean shrugged on his incredibly old, scuffed up leather jacket, and said he was gonna go get some grub for us and left shortly after.

Me and Sam alone together, again.

We were still sitting beside each other, knees brushing. I was about to get up, suddenly aware of our unnecessary proximity, when Sam pushed his laptop onto my lap. I looked at the screen in surprise.

It was open to a video, a logo for something called 'Ghost Facers' was the image it was stilled on.

"This is the only surviving copy of this video and his Dean finds out it exists he will kill me and never bring me back, but I think you need to see what could happen, and that this could get nasty." His lips were mashed into an unhappy line, and his eyes were serious.

"Sounds great, totally like the rom-com I was in the mood for," I said uneasily, laughing tightly. I was terrified.

As we talked last night Sam had told me stories, and sometimes there was no happy ending. Sometimes people died.

I wasn't sure I wanted to see what this video contained.

I carefully looked up at Sam's sad eyes. It was like he was looking at me but seeing a memory; almost like he was remembering something he had lost.

What ever tension had existed before was nothing like it was now. The shitty motel room could have been on fire for all I cared. I wouldn't have noticed.

I could read the grief in his features, the knowledge that loosing people was more than easy with a job like his. Mistakes were fatal. People died. I could see he had grown to care about me, 'the accidental companion'. I felt his desperation for a happy ending.

Sam told me through flushed cheeks and tense shoulder blades that he didn't have control over the situation like he wanted to. We didn't seem to need words to communicate our pain.

He wanted to get me out of this.

I saw all his fears, and I knew, unhelpfully, they were reflected in my face as well.

Slowly I reached up and placed my palm on his jaw line. Drawing a breath, my heart beat crashing through my chest, I drew his face to mine-

**Author's Note:**

**ANDDDDD ;)**

**Y'all know the drill, comments make me squeal and make you my favourite person ever :)**

**Thank you thank you thank you to everyone to has made it this far, I hope you're enjoying! I know I am! **

**xx Imaginationfluffball**


	6. Chapter VI

"So I went and grabbed some take out menus from the front desk, Chinese or pizza?"

I ripped my hand away and jumped back like I'd been electrocuted.

Sam slammed his laptop shut.

Our noses had just barely brushed...we had been so close...In every sense...

Dean glanced over at us, blushing and sliding away from each other hastily.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Sam gave him a sour look and I suddenly became very interested in my split ends.

"Anywayyy..." Dean said, raising his eyebrows but turning back to the menus.

We ended up ordering pizza and watching more bad TV. Sam dug up more old documents that he thought might be helpful, and Dean popped in and out, watching out front for anything suspicious, and buying more beer.

Every once in a while I would help translate something for Sam, or Dean would ask me questions about my life: had anything strange been happening before I appeared in their car? Was I sure? My responses were typically boring, nothing unusual had happened to me what so ever. Until now, that was.

Me and Sam stayed as far away as possible from each other. Both acutely aware of our situation, and how close it had got to running away on us.

I snuck glances at him though, occasionally. His impressive set of shoulders, small waist, long hair. Being stuck in a room with any one person for this long should have been a nightmare but I felt...comfortable. We got along easily, if you took away the wild fire tension that screamed, incessantly.

Boredom crept up on us again, which was bringing out some fantastic conversation from Dean-_not._

"So, what did you guys get up to last night?" Dean asked. After walking in on the odd scene a couple hours ago, Dean had finally noticed the strange electricity that existed between me and Sam.

"I did research; we mostly just sat tight." _butt out, _Sam's gave his brother a look.

"Mmmm. Noticed there were some dings in the back of the door." Dean raised an eyebrow at me, a bit of a smirk playing at the corner of his unnecessarily pouty lips.

"Oh yeah, turns out I'm a natural with a knife." I smiled at Dean innocently.

He turned to Sam, who shrugged, "she beats me, every time."

Dean looked back at me; his level of surprise was slightly insulting.

Standing up from the kitchen chair I was sitting in, I grabbed the knife I had used last night out of the duffel that was placed beside me, and stood up.

With both Dean and Sam's eyes on me, I placed myself on the exact spot the linoleum from the kitchen area, met the carpet.

Then I lined myself up with the door-which was on the opposite side of the room.

Sam on my left, sitting on the Queen closest to the door and window, and Dean on my right, sitting in the chair my the TV, I let a slow breath out.

Then I threw the knife.

End over end, it flipped over and over, glinting maliciously.

Then it sank straight into the wood door, a quarter of an inch above the peep hole, directly on the black dot Sam had drawn on last night as our target.

I sauntered over the door, plucked the knife out, and crossed my arms.

"So,what were you asking, Dean."

I smiled sweetly.

Dean's eyebrows were up in his hair line. He cleared his throat nonchalantly, "Can't remember, sweetheart."

I glanced over at Sam, who was grinning - dimples and all.

I winked.

Castiel showed up again when the sun was setting, popping into existence at the seat beside me at the kitchen table, making me choke on the water I was drinking.

"I have it. I had to travel back in time, to many centuries ago, but I found it."

From his clenched fist, he dropped a small necklace onto the table. Sam and Dean gathered around. It looked like a geode. It was a rock split in half with a magnetically blue, crystallized core. It was beautiful.

"It is meant to be worn by a female." Cas informed us, non-pulsed.

I reached out and carefully lifted it up.

"Should I...?" I looked up at Sam. He shrugged, Dean as well.

Deciding to go for it, I fastened it around my throat. The amulet of sorts, sat in the small hollow where my collar bones met.

The three men gazed at it anticlimactically. Dean then quickly engaged Cas in a conversation about what he had discovered about the stone. Sam on the other hand, flicked his eyes up to mine. His eyes filled with wonder.

I blushed. Must look okay then.

Dean impatiently snapped his figures at us. Sam and I both jumped.

"Listen up lovebirds, this is important if we're ever going to get you out of this god damn motel room. Cas, tell them what you found out from that lady in Ethiopia."

But Cas did not continue; his ageless eyes bounced between me and Sam curiously for a moment, before he reached out and pressed two fingers to both Sam and I's foreheads, simultaneously.

It felt like being dowsed in freezing water.

"What the hell, Cas?" Sam exclaimed grabbing the table and blinking rapidly.

I shivered. I felt exposed.

Cas's eyebrows pushed together. "I understand now, why you are here."

His bright, ageless eyes bore into mine with an incredible depth.

"What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"I should have seen it before. Abigail and Sam's souls have been marked. They have been chosen by heaven to be together, It is gods will."

I felt all the blood drain out of my face.

Sam's face, on the other hand, had turned crimson. He also looked vaguely ill.

"And you just didn't notice that tiny little fact before?" Dean spat.

"I did not see it, without looking for it in Sam as well. It is very hard to find individually. It is a very deep and complex mark of the Lord."

I didn't know what to feel. This man beside me, who I undoubtably had a _crush on,_ was my _soulmate_? What? We were marked by GOD? To be together, forever? He was crush for God's Sake!

Or, at least, that's what I'd been telling myself.

I placed my forehead on the table, the lack of sleep and overwhelming amount of stimuli during the last day or so was getting to me. The room started swinging.

I couldn't bear to look at Sam.

I heard Sam's heavy foot falls pace up and down the room.

"So the trickster wants me and-," Sam hesitated just slightly on my name, "Abigail-trapped in here together why? What joy is having us locked together going to bring it?" Sam worked out angrily.

"Well, maybe that's just it." I plied my face off the table, staring at one of the ugly, cheap flower paintings on the facing wall, "We are trapped here, forever, never quite happy, never able to live a normal life, even thought we are-are together." I swallowed nervously.

"So it gets its kicks out of causing the destruction of what would be a perfectly happy future," Sam mused. We locked eyes fleetingly. The awkward in the room was tangible.

"We have the amulet now, so the next time it gets close we can gank that evil son of a bitch," I looked over at Dean for the first time. He seemed shockingly angry. Suddenly I remembered my observation upon meeting the brothers for the first time: that they were so close they were practically telepathic. I suppose it made sense that Dean would be this pissed that his younger brother's happy future was being taken from him. It was an oddly sweet observation, but didn't hold my attention for long. All the other emotions coursing through my body were making me woozy.

Him, Sam, hunter of things that go thud in the night, and possessor of the worlds cutest nose, was my _soul mate_. Someone wanted us together so bad it was in my soul, and his. I hadn't even kissed the damn boy yet!

Honestly, I barely knew anything about him at all!

This whole affair was overwhelming and horrible and kind of fantastic in that watching-a-skyscraper-burn-to-the-ground kind of way. I stood up to go to the bathroom, (unsure if I needed to puke, or be alone, or both) when the spiralling room took a nose dive and gravity pulled me down unkindly.

**Author's Note:**

**I would like to say I'm not getting a kick out of causing you guys pain with the cliff hangers, but I am, I really, REALLY, am. **

**So what I really want to know is: your opinion on the revelation Cas unearthed!**

**Like, hate, what ever - every comment is welcome :)**

**Thank you again for the support of every one who has made it this far, this story is for you :)**


	7. Chapter VII

Everyone was gone when I woke up, except Sam, who was hunched over the table staring at his laptop screen, running his large hands repeatedly through his hair. His features were tight.

I sat up and gasped aloud once again, grabbing my forehead. A bottle of pain relievers were tossed lightly into my lap before I could remember to ask.

"Thanks," I stuttered out. We avoided each other's gazes.

Grabbing a water bottle that had been carefully placed on the nightstand, I clumsily took two pills and washed then down.

Slamming my eyes shut against the awful bright lights, I laid back. I had almost forgotten about my lovely concussion.

Minutes passed, as I stepped in and out of consciousness; willing the headache to subside, and refusing to open my eyes. I wondered if the Sam had any morphine.

Sam.

I was hyper aware of his presence. I focused on his quiet breathing as a distraction from the pain.

After half an hour, the silence had become overwhelmingly thick. My headache had calmed down enough that I could think again.

I took a chance and opened my eyes...to see Sam, asleep, his head in his arms on the table.

I smiled crookedly. If we could just get out of this I could see myself very happy with this big moose of a man.

Assuming he could even look at me after all the awkward.

Of being chosen.

By Heaven.

To be together.

During the last few days I had been shaken to my very core, every last thing I seemed to have known had been ripped apart and burned down. But even though my life was completely on fire I could see it: Sam and I, together. It was terrifying and wonderful in equal parts.

I glanced over at the clock, 4am. I must have passed out for awhile then.

The last few day's events had taken a toll on me. As I looked myself over in the bathroom mirror I was more than a little horrified. My hair was a disaster to say the least, so I pilled it back into a ponytail. The bags under my eyes were a lovely shade of eggplant and on the right side of my head a goose egg had finally sprung up on my temple.

In the other room sat my soul mate. My mind then leapt to an awful place: _what if he doesn't feel as I do? Does being a soulmate make it so you automatically love someone - or do you still have free will._

Or what had become the most horrifying thought, now that I had admitted to myself that I truly cared about Sam Winchester, who was both an accidental room mate and practical stranger if you looked at it logically:

_Does he love someone else?_

I swallowed thickly and splashed some cold water on my face.

The way I had grown up had taught me that life was not fair. It was cruel and unusual and cold, and it was possible to throw your whole life into something and still not get it.

I had made it to college, I reminded myself. Then somehow discovered that we walked among the supernatural - an inexplicable predicament.

Before the current situation occurred I would have proclaimed there was no such thing as soul mates, but now...

Watching a man apparate and disapparate like a wizard in Harry Potter leaves little room in the mind for doubt. Also: invisible, but solid, walls.

As I went back to my bed (passing Sam who was now drooling on the table) it suddenly clicked why this thing would have let us out to get burgers that first day. Nothing is as mind numbingly awful as remembering what life could have been, having a bright and clear memory of what should have been, and having that option ripped from you.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I sprang up, my head spinning slightly. Sam gave a long snore but didn't wake. Some monster hunter. He must have been exhausted.

I didn't want to wake him in the least.

The necklace around my throat felt suddenly warm. My heart rate increased by a tenfold.

Dean never knocked and Cas simply popped in. I hoped desperately that maybe it was that abstract "Bobby" figure.

My nerves were on fire. But Sam, he just looked so...calm.

I really didn't want to wake him. I shot a quick text to Dean instead. This weird stone wasn't guaranteed to work anyway; Cas had literally said those exact same words when conversing with Dean earlier.

I plucked one of the knives from the night before out Sam's large duffel bag, then quietly opened the door.

"Room service!"

The night had a sharp cool breeze rippling through it.

The small woman, behind the large trolley full of cleaning supplies, had a pleasant, open face.

But it was four in the morning...

And the boys ordered this room not to be cleaned, ever.

I opened my mouth to tell her it wasn't necessary when-

The woman suddenly gave a chilling smile, and right before my eyes, changed (morphed really) into a completely different woman.

I staggered back (jaw still open) as the new, taller, dark haired, black eyed woman began to cackle.

Time began to slow down.

I pulled the knife out of my back pocket and in one swift motion flicked it through the open door. Sam awoke behind me and barked my name as the blade sank deep into her chest.

Sam possessively slid in front of me and she began to cackle louder - the bond handled knife sticking out of her chest like an extra limb. He pulled out a gun but the door began to close by itself. The last thing I saw was Dean, springing out of no where, and grabbing her from behind.

Our door slammed shut.

There was a nauseating scream.

"Dean!" Sam's eyes were on fire. We both rushed forward, toward the door.

Sam threw it open and there was Dean, holding a bloody wooden stake and staring down at a corpse that seemed to be quickly...liquifying?

"It's dead." He looked up at me and Sam.

Looks like our little friend forgot to factor in a certain Dean Winchester.

There was a pause. Dean looked at the creature that was slowing disappearing, with a twisted, satisfied gaze.

I looked at the door frame.

Sam looked at me.

I turned my head, locking gazes with Sam.

I gave a small nod.

We both took a step forward at the same time, praying to every god damn angel out there that this would be the end, that killing the woman was the key, that Sam and I could get out..

And: my completely bare right foot landed on cold cement, right along with Sam's.

I brought my other leg out, and so did Sam.

We were...free.

I coughed up a laugh, that was really more like a sob. Dean let out a huge sigh, staggering back to sit on the hood of his car.

And Sam, well...

He grabbed me strongly, and crushed me into his chest. I could hear his thudding heart and his big deep breaths.

Then he kissed me, hard and passionate.

I kissed him right back.

I thought I heard Dean give out an appreciative whistle, but I couldn't say for sure.

Later I learned that their car, that glorious old black thing, was a '67 Chevy Impala. I learned but I didn't truly care. To me it was a stallion, a get away car, a freedom bus. It didn't have a make or model.

In 10 minutes we were out of that motel, another 20, we were out of that town.

Dean flew down the dark highways and cranked up the radio so loud we had to shout to sing along, so that's exactly what we did. I leaned forward between the two brothers to scream Led Zeppelin into their ears. Dean, if possible got even more into it than me, and started playing the air guitar whilst driving. Sam let out big, booming, barking laughs. When the sun began to rise, and we hit the next state over, Dean pulled over and we all clambered out.

The three of us leaned against the warm hood. Sam looped an arm around me and I put my head on his shoulder, as if we had done this every day of our lives.

We watched the new day break.

The chilly new morning cut through my clothes and one of Sam's jackets I was wearing, but I didn't much mind. In fact, I was the happiest I'd ever been, even if I was wearing clothes from 3 days ago and probably really needed a shower. I kissed Sam just then, solely because I could, which prompted an eye roll from Dean and an order for us to get back into the car.

I stretched out in the back seat, suddenly very tired. I was now 100% sure that under these two boys protection, nothing was going to harm me, well not until duty called, I supposed.

**Author's Note:**

**AND WE'RE DONE! **

**Sorry for the delay between updates but I had finals, blah, blah.**

**I hope that everyone enjoyed it, and that it fuelled some stuck-with-the-Winchesters daydreams.**

**That was the only story I had on and now am sorely without a project, and a whole 2 months of summer boredom :) So now I go to you guys; my awesome AWESOME readers - is there anything you want typed up, any story you want to read but don't really feel like writing? I am up to take prompts and suggestions, honestly I'll write what ever! (Also other TV shows, movies, books, etc. if I know them!) So if you have anything you'd like to share go right ahead! **

**THANK YOU THANK YOU **

**xx Imaginationfluffball**


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